


What You Do When You Stop Running: Assorted Fenris/Rynne Hawke Oneshots & Drabbles

by queenofkadara



Series: Underneath It All: Fenris & Rynne Hawke [12]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Because I'm too obsessed and have a Fenhawke addiction problem, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2019-12-29 22:38:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18303233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofkadara/pseuds/queenofkadara
Summary: Short assorted drabbles about Fenris and Rynne Hawke, from the various timelines in which I write them:the canon romance era,the Inquisition era subsequent to canon,the modern bartender AU timeline,or thethe pirate AU.Because apparently I needed yet another place to vomit all my feelings about Fenris and Hawke.Timeline will be specified in the author's notes at the start of each chapter.NSFW in Chapter 6, 7, & 8.





	1. Love Will Tear Us Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fluffy drabble about Fenris and Rynne Hawke from my modern bartender AU, [Damned Spot.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17710157/chapters/41780090)
> 
> Inspired by beautiful art drawn by @schoute on Tumblr, my soulmate and enabler!! 
> 
> Makes reference to the song ["Love Will Tear Us Apart" by Joy Division.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mAAqKx4aD_g) Modern AU Fenris loves that 80s new wave and shoegaze.

Fenris hummed very quietly to himself as he shoved his damp clothes into the dryer. Just as he slammed the dryer door shut, a sultry voice took him by surprise. 

“Hello, handsome. Need any help with your pants?”

He looked up to see Hawke smiling down at him. He rose to his feet and pulled out one of his earbuds. “What are you doing down here?” he asked. She’d been watching TV on his bed upstairs a mere five minutes ago. 

“My episode finished,” she explained. “Thought I’d come see if you needed any laundry help.” She tilted her head coyly. “What were you humming in that sweet voice of yours?”

He smirked at her, then offered her his earbud. She popped it in her ear, and her face lit up.

“Oh, I love this song! I haven’t heard it in years.” She immediately started doing an odd little dance.

Fenris eyed her warily. “What is this?”

“What does it look like?” she said. “It’s the twist!” She continued to twist her hips and shoulders rhythmically.

Fenris folded his arms and leaned back against the dryer. “I can see that. But why are you doing the twist?”

She gave him an odd look and continued to dance. “Because it’s a great song.”

He watched her with a combination of exasperation and fondness. “Hawke, it’s ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart.’ This is not… It is not a song for dancing to.”

“How can you say that?” she exclaimed. “The beat is so danceable! It’s so happy!”

He raised his eyebrows. “ _Happy?_ It’s a tragic song. Listen to the lyrics.”

“I know, I know, but it’s more than lyrics,” she said impatiently. “Under the sad-sack words, it’s a happy-sounding song, you know? I’ll ignore the words and just dance to the beat, if you don’t mind.”

She winked at him and continued to dance, transitioning from a playful twist into more of an 80s-style sway while snapping her fingers, and Fenris studied her with an undeniable rush of affection. Trust Hawke to find a way to spin a sad song into something sunny. 

He smirked and rested his elbows on the dryer. “You are spoiling the song.”

“I am not! I’m making it better.” She bobbed and shimmied more enthusiastically still, then started singing along to the chorus. 

Fenris watched her with a growing smile. Then he pinched her waist. “Stop it.”

She yelped at his pinch, then grabbed his hand and placed it on her hip while she continued to dance. “Not until you dance with me.” 

“Absolutely not,” he said. “You know I don’t dance.”

She grinned and kept twisting. “Anything is possible if you try hard enough.”

“ _You’re_ the one who is trying,” he drawled.

“Exactly!” She twisted more vigorously and ridiculously in an obvious attempt to make him laugh.

He shook his head and rolled his eyes. Then, at last, he twisted his hips slightly in a faint imitation of her dance.

Hawke gasped and burst out laughing, and Fenris immediately stopped and folded his arms once more. “There. Are you satisfied?” 

“Very,” she giggled. She finally stopped dancing and leaned into his chest. Her fingers curled against his abs as she beamed up at him. “I’m going to make you dance even more,” she purred. “You’ll see. I’ll spoil all your sad songs until all you can do is dance to them.”

Fenris huffed skeptically, then kissed her smiling cheek. He was never going to be one for dancing, no matter what Hawke said. But watching her twisting her hips like this, twisting his melancholy music into something merry and bright…

Fenris supposed he didn’t mind having Hawke spoil his sad songs in this way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm [Pikapeppa on Tumblr](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/), and I'm a complete Fenris addict. Feel free to join me if you feel like squealing about Broody Elf Boyfriend™. Xo


	2. Taste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could fit with any of my Fenhawke timelines: canon, Inquisition era, or modern AU. 
> 
> Inspired by the gorgeous FenRynne gif that @schoute on Tumblr made for me. xoxoxo

Palms flattened on the wall, lips parted on a gasp: she is naked and waiting, and Fenris doesn’t want to make her wait any longer.

He presses forward, hands clutching the golden curves of her body as his nose skims her neck. He breathes her in and tastes the salt of her skin with a flick of his tongue, and he hears her whimpering his name as he braises her neck with a kiss.

No, not just a kiss: a taste. This is a taste of Hawke, the taste of her skin between his teeth and her twisting tattoo beneath his tongue. Her hand reaches up to grip the back of his neck, and her back arches to press her curves more firmly into his fingers, and Fenris simply tastes her. 

Sandalwood and sweat, warm flesh and sunshine: These are the flavours of Hawke. She is pliant and warm and utterly delicious, and as he nips the tender nape of her neck, he realizes what it is that he is really tasting. 

He is tasting his dark-haired lover’s neck as he presses her against the wall. He is softly sinking his teeth into the one person that he cannot live without.

He praises Hawke’s slender neck with his ravenous lips, and he knows what he is truly tasting: Fenris is tasting life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Come hang out on Tumblr ](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) and scream about Fenris with me if you fancy!


	3. In This World Or The One Below

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble is from Schoute's and my pirate AU project, [Where The Winds Of Fortune Take Me.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18862420/chapters/44769256) The fic is just starting so this is a big jump forward in time, but she made BEAUTIFUL art for me, and I couldn't help myself.

“Fuck,” Rynne gasped. She released the dagger and stumbled back, and her assailant stumbled back as well, with her dagger buried in his gut.

Rynne clutched her face. “Oh shit, oh shit,” she squeaked. Then she immediately ripped her hands away and looked at them in disgust; no blood, thankfully, so she hadn’t gotten any on her face. But blood was blooming through her would-be murderer’s shirt in a swiftly spreading splotch. 

His beady little eyes were wide with shock, and his face was going pale. From everything Anders had taught her during her time on the ship, she could tell her assailant was going to die; and yet he was still standing, and — _oh fuck_ , he was taking a step toward her now, and all she had on hand were her throwing knives, but he was too close for her to use them effectively. 

He stepped even closer. Rynne stepped back in a panic, and her back hit the workbench behind her. She was trapped, penned against the back wall of the dimly lit cabin, and _why_ the fuck had Fenris told her to go belowdecks again? Something about being out of the way when the other pirates boarded them?

 _Well, I’m definitely out of the way now. I hope Fenris finds my body before I start to rot,_ she thought.

A hysterical little laugh burst from her lips, and her assailant took another lurching step forward. “What’re you laughing at, whore?” he spat. 

Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and Rynne grimaced. “Oh, nothing, nothing,” she sang. “Just considering my impending doom, the futility of my miniscule little life, you know how it is.”

He scowled at her — she’d probably used too many long words for him, the poor lamb — but then he started to raise his cutlass, and Rynne couldn’t help but cower away from his burly looming form in a shameful rise of terror. 

He grunted and stumbled toward her, and with a panicked little scream, she lashed out and punched him in the nose. 

Pain ricocheted through her fist, and her assailant dropped to his knees. Rynne stared at him, surprised at the effectiveness of her little strike, and her surprise grew into incredulity as her erstwhile attacker toppled to the floor, dead as a doornail. 

Rynne stared dumbly at the growing puddle of blood around the body. Then a hand grasped her arm.

She screamed again and fought to break away. The hand squeezed her gently, and the owner of the hand spoke. “Hawke. It is only me,” Fenris snapped. “Are you hurt?”

She dragged in a breath. “Fenris,” she squeaked. She clutched the ragged lapels of his tunic in her shaking fists. “Maker’s fucking balls, where did you — I thought —” 

“Hawke, focus,” he snapped. “Are you hurt?” 

She shook her head and swallowed hard. “No,” she said. “I don’t think so. But who knows, Anders said sometimes you can’t tell until an hour later when the shock wears off—” 

Fenris gripped her chin and turned her head to the side. “You’re cut,” he said tersely. “Your face.” 

Rynne couldn’t breathe. His thumb was grazing her cheekbone, and now that he mentioned it, there was a faint sting of pain across the line of her cheek. 

She swallowed again. His face was creased into a scowl, and his other fist was tight around his bloodstained sword. Rynne’s heart was drumming in her chest again, but it was a different kind of beat now; it wasn’t fear, or not _just_ fear in any case, not unless you felt fear in the depths of your belly and below. 

She was trembling. She clenched her fingers in his shirt and stroked the exposed skin of his chest with her thumb. “My hero,” she said tremulously. “You saved me—”

He kissed her. His hand cradled her neck in a hot caress, and an answering roar of dizzying heat ripped through belly, burning away the terror that was threatening to bury itself there. Shocked and utterly delighted, Rynne instinctively opened her lips, and Fenris stroked her tongue firmly with his own. 

Rynne made a sound. She didn’t mean to, but she couldn’t help it — the whimper was unstoppable, like it was being scooped from the back of her throat by Fenris’s skillful tongue, but as soon as the sound left her lips, he broke the kiss and stepped away from her. 

He rubbed his mouth. “I…” He stared at her for a moment, and Rynne stared back at him, her chest heaving as she gazed into the darkness of his pupils in the low-lit cabin. 

He lowered his hand from his mouth. He looked just as surprised as she felt. “We… we should return to the deck,” he said. “The captain—”

Rynne stepped toward him, and he stepped back with a frown. She pushed his chest, and he backed into a pillar and scowled at her. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

His hand was on her hip. Did he even know it was there? Did he have any idea what the weight of his fingers on her hip was doing to her?

She dragged in a breath and pressed her palms to his chest. “Why did you stop?” she breathed. “I liked it.”

He shook his head and looked away. “This is trouble,” he grunted. “I can’t—” 

She turned his face back toward her. “Come on, kiss me again, you handsome fool,” she said. 

He glared at her, but his gaze was on her lips. “Do you not understand what they’ll say if we ever go back?” he snarled. “The Tevinter elf who defiled the Belle of Kirkwall. We cannot risk it. I refuse to be chained for something so… so—”

“I don’t care,” Rynne blurted. “I don’t care, Fenris, I don’t.” She stroked the white lines on his chin with her thumb. “I don’t give a fuck what they say, I just…” In a fit of desperation, she shoved herself onto her tiptoes and kissed him.

He grunted into her mouth and pressed his fingers into her hip, and then —

 _Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck._ She broke from his lips. “Fenris,” she moaned. 

His thigh was pressing between her legs, pressing a peculiar sort of heat through her abdomen, and Rynne didn’t know what to do. She’d never — no one had ever — but her body seemed to know what to do, because she was pressing down against the hard planes of his thigh and _Maker’s balls_ , if that didn’t feel good… 

She gasped fitfully, and Fenris licked her lower lip. “Kiss me, then,” he rasped. “If this is truly what you want.”

She didn’t hesitate. She gripped his neck and kissed him hard. He pulled her hips closer, and she rocked towards him and pulled his ivory hair, and all she could think was that she’d never wanted anything more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am [Pikapeppa on Tumblr.](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) And my artist partner-in-crime is [Schoute](http://schoute.tumblr.com/). xoxo


	4. Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill for DA Drunk Writing Circle. The 3-word prompt: game, river, stay. 
> 
> This was honestly just a shameless excuse for me to write some shameless sappy fluff in the wake of Fenris and Rynne's wedding, which you can read [here (in the Fenquisition fic).](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17806493/chapters/45436270)

It’s the gentle rise and fall of her lips on his shoulder blade that wakes him. 

He smiles into his pillow. “Hawke,” he rasps. 

“Good morning, handsome,” she whispers. Her lips graze his skin once more. She shifts a little closer, sliding halfway on top of him and pressing him more firmly into the bed. 

He grumbles happily into the pillow. Her naked body is a warm weight on his back, and the tips of her fingers are delicate as they trail along his arms in a careful path. 

He sighs contentedly. “What are you doing?”

“Tracing your tattoos,” she murmurs. “Also known as a cheap excuse to get my hands all over this fine body of yours.” Her voice is quiet but bright with laughter, and her fingers slide in a smooth curving line along his bicep. She gently pokes the dots below his shoulder, then slowly strokes the lines on his shoulder. 

He hums lazily into the pillow. His half-asleep mind is a slow-moving river of sleepy thoughts, but it does not escape his notice that her slow and careful touch is something he could not tolerate a few years ago. The hands on his body, the attention to his scarred skin, the uninhibited weight of another person pressing so firmly against him: this is everything he pushed away just a few short years ago.

This is love and trust and closeness — everything he never thought to want. It is everything he shied away from for years, and everything that Hawke offered him so openly. Now, lying in this bed with her body sprawled comfortably across his own: this is everything he couldn’t imagine living without.

“I enjoy this game,” he mumbles. “I’ll permit it to continue.”

She scoffs softly and kisses his back once more. “Glad to hear it,” she whispers. “I’m enjoying it too. In fact, I think we have to stay here until I’ve had my hands on every single line on your body.”

“Hmm,” he murmurs distractedly. Her fingers are trailing lower, slipping around his side and smoothing over his ribs, and Fenris stretches and presses into her hand as her fingers move lower still.

Her lips caress his spine, and he groans into his pillow and arches into her touch. They breathe and shift together in a slow and steady rhythm, and in the patience of her hands and the tenderness of her smile, Fenris has everything he could ever want.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I am Pikapeppa on Tumblr, ](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) in case you want to get in touch with your local Fenris-obsessed madwoman. xo


	5. Passenger Seat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently coming to the end of a mini-vacation involving a road trip from LA to San Francisco, and this little drabble came to my mind. 
> 
> Based on my modern bartender AU, [Damned Spot,](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17710157/chapters/41780090) in which Rynne and Fenris embark on a road trip at the end of the tale.

I roll the window down  
And then begin to breathe in

The darkest country road  
And the strong scent of evergreen  
From the passenger seat as you are driving me home

Then looking upwards  
I strain my eyes and try  
To tell the difference between shooting stars and satellites  
From the passenger seat as you are driving me home

Do they collide?  
I ask, and you smile  
With my feet on the dash  
The world doesn't matter

When you feel embarrassed, then I'll be your pride  
When you need directions, then I'll be the guide  
For all time

\- ["Passenger Seat", by Death Cab For Cutie](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J0Iv4onsrIE)  
****************************

“Hawke.”

Rynne jolted, startled by Fenris’s gentle fingers clasping her wrist. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and darted him a quick concerned glance. “Yeah? Is everything all right?”

“I was about to ask you the same question,” he said. His voice was pitched low and deep, and Rynne relaxed at the comforting sound. He was fine, then – nothing to worry about. 

She smiled at him before returning her gaze to the freeway ahead. It was dark now, sunset having come and gone over an hour ago. They were halfway from Salle to Antiva City, and Rynne had intended to be in Rialto before nightfall. But they’d fallen behind schedule during their leisurely beachside picnic in Salle, and Rynne was hoping to make up lost time. 

She didn’t seem to be doing a great job of making up for lost time though, if Fenris was noticing her fatigue. 

She took a deep, bracing breath before replying. “I’m good!” she chirped. “We’ll be in Rialto soon. You can go ahead and sleep if you want.” 

“You’re nearly asleep at the wheel,” Fenris said.

His reply was flat but curled with humour. Rynne shot him a defiant look. “I am not. I’ll be just fine to get us to Rialto.” She turned the music up a little louder and began to sing along.

Fenris was quiet for a moment. Then he reached over and squeezed her thigh. “Let me take over. I will drive the rest of the way.”

“What? No!” Rynne gave him another quick glance – an affronted one this time. “I told you I’d show you a good time on this road trip, and that’s what I plan to do.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then he squeezed her thigh again. “It is not your job to show me a good time, Hawke. I don’t need taking care of. This is _your_ first vacation in years, as well.”

An image of Leandra’s face flashed through her mind. This was the first time Rynne had left Kirkwall for more than two days in a row since her father’s death. During that one weekend getaway she’d taken with Piper and Merrill and Isabela, her mother had called both days with some easily-fixed problem or complaint that Rynne had needed to deal with remotely. 

During this trip, however, Rynne and Fenris had been gone now for a week, and Leandra hadn’t called. 

_Carver’s got it under control,_ Rynne thought. He’d said as much when he’d last texted her two days ago. It was a relief to not be the one in charge of managing her mother’s moods and whims for once, and an enormous weight off of Rynne’s shoulders. 

It was a huge fucking relief not taking care of anyone. So why would Fenris think she was taking care of him?

She glanced at him. The glow from the headlights lit his profile with a soft white light, and Rynne could see that his expression was serious but tender. 

She smiled and returned her eyes to the road. “I’m not making it my job to take care of you. I just want you to have a good time.”

“I am having a good time,” he said quietly. “But that will cease to be the case if we crash.”

She scoffed. “We won’t crash. I’m a great driver.”

“When you’re awake, your driving is passable,” he said. “But if you—” 

“Passable!” she exclaimed.

He smirked. “If you crash, I will tease you all the more about your driving skills. Or lack thereof.” He leaned back in his seat and propped his bare tattooed feet up on the dash. “In which case, feel free to crash. I have been looking for something to tease you about.” 

She laughed, feeling admittedly much more alert now thanks to his deadpan banter. “Something to tease me about, huh?” she said playfully. “It is hard to find something, isn’t it? Given that I am perfect and all.”

He snorted softly. “As if I could forget.”

She grinned at him. His handsome face was relaxed and happy, his lips curled into a smile and his hooded eyelids at half-mast, and a warm feeling of satisfaction suffused her chest at how perfectly at ease he looked. 

She straightened in her seat and returned her attention to the road. A moment later, however, he squeezed her thigh again.

“What?” she blurted. “What’s wrong?”

“Pull over,” he said. He slid his feet from the dash to the floor. “I am taking over.”

She shook her head. “No, Fenris, I can—” 

“I know you can,” he said firmly. “You don’t have to. That is the difference.” He patted her leg. “Pull over. I will drive.” 

She took a deep breath, then released it gustily. “All right, fine,” she groused. “Since you’re being so bossy…” She carefully pulled into the shoulder and stepped out of the car. 

Fenris was smirking as she met him in front of the car. She wrinkled her nose at him and leaned into his chest. “No need to look so smug,” she said. 

“I am not smug,” he said. “Just pleased that you are listening to sense.”

She shot him a mock-pout and poked him in the ribs. Then Fenris tilted her chin up with a gentle finger.

“You don’t need to do everything,” he said quietly. “I can do half of the driving.” 

His smirk was gone, melted back into that soft look of understanding. She swallowed the lump in her throat, then sank dreamily into the softness of his lips as he pressed them to hers. When he pulled away with a tiny smile, she smiled back at him. 

“Okay,” she whispered. “This is just a one-time thing, though.”

His wry smirk reappeared. “We’ll see about that,” he said. He stepped around her and made his way to the driver’s side. 

Rynne slipped into the passenger seat and propped her feet up on the dash. Fenris gave her a faint smile as he adjusted the seat, and a moment later, they were back on the road again.

She fondly studied the confident curve of his elegant fingers on the steering wheel. His other hand was curled casually on his knee, and he looked just as much at ease in the driver’s seat as he had when she was in charge. 

On impulse, she reached over and took his hand. “I love you,” she said. 

The corners of his lips crinkled in a smile. He shot her affectionate glance and squeezed her fingers. “Get some rest, Hawke,” he murmured.

She smiled, then nestled into her seat and closed her eyes. _Maybe I’ll let him take the wheel more often,_ she thought drowsily. 

A moment later, secure in the knowledge that Fenris had everything well in hand, Rynne fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am [Pikapeppa on Tumblr,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) youR resident FenHawke trash writer! xo


	6. Fenris Isn't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is canon timeline, from a few months after the reunion in Act 3... and a rare Rynne POV appears!! 
> 
> Inspo for this came from many sources:
> 
> \- [This unabashedly sexual song by Kim Petras,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LShK0Yhd964) which was my soundtrack the whole time I was writing this.  
> \- [This SURPRISE SMUT that my darling friend Schoute drew for me this week.](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/post/187051124044/s-k-i-n-schoute-surprised-me-with-this-fenris-x)  
> \- ... I just have a lot of feelings about Fenris and Rynne ok, don't judge me.

Fenris isn’t tall, but he’s taller than her. He isn’t broad or bulky, but he looms over her, pinning her against the wall with his tattooed palms pressed to hers. 

She clenches her fingers in the spaces between his own. He’s leaning into her now, crowding her space with his narrow hips pressed to hers and filling her lungs with his own harsh breaths. When his lips drop to the tender spot just behind her ear, she stops breathing altogether. 

“Hawke,” he whispers. “What do you want? Tell me, and it is done.” 

Rynne fights to catch a breath. He’s found the tendon in her neck with his teeth, and it’s like he’s lit sparks beneath her skin — scintillating sparks of pleasure that are spreading steadily through her limbs, and Maker’s balls, she needs him to feed this fire. 

“A-anything,” she stammers. “Whatever you want, I…” She breaks off with a shaky exhale. His fingers are creeping over her belly and into her smalls, and the air is trapped in her lungs again, collecting in her throat in a soundless whine of pleasure as his fingers curve between her legs.

He dips two fingers into her pussy, a slow and careful stroke like he’s collecting the final drops of honey from the inside of a jar, and Rynne leans her head back against the wall. “Fuck’s sake, Fenris,” she begs. 

He chuckles softly: a sound both smug and tender at once. “You are eager,” he drawls.

“Obviously,” she snaps. “Have you _seen_ you?” He’s smirking now, but his emerald-green eyes are heart-wrenchingly tender, and Rynne is never going to get sick of looking at those eyes, not for as long as she lives. 

He scoffs quietly. “ _Kaffas,_ Hawke. You will make me blush,” he murmurs. He suddenly drags her silken robe away from her shoulder, and his lips are pressing against her skin – no, not just his lips, his teeth, _yes that’s what I want_ – and when he bites the spot between her shoulder and her neck, the sizzling sparks flare more brightly beneath her skin. 

Fenris’s fingers aren’t broad; they’re fine-boned and elegant, and they’re stroking her clit with the sort of careful delicacy that she’s come to expect from him, and her thoughts are melting into a mindless mixture of desperation and indecision: what does she like more? The careful pull of his lips on her breast, or the careful teasing of his fingers in her heated core?

_Who fucking cares?_ she thinks deliriously. Everything he does to her body is perfect, because everything he does is _him_ : It’s him, it’s Fenris – it’s _his_ fingers between her legs and _his_ teeth pressing into her nipple, and even now, months after he came back to her, there are moments when Rynne can’t quite believe he’s here. 

He growls against her sternum, and the sound of it feeds the pulsing pressure between her thighs. She leans limply against the wall and arches her spine. “Please,” she mewls, uncertain what she’s asking for but uncaring as well: whatever he decides to give her will be exactly what she wants, because it’s _him._

He suddenly lifts her off her feet. Fenris isn’t buff or built, but he’s wiry with muscle and fucking _strong_ , and he picks her up with ease to deposit her on her writing desk. He sits in the desk chair and starts to strip her, peeling away her clothes with the same efficiency as he strips his own armour after a long day, pushing the robe from her shoulders and prying her smallclothes away from her hips. 

Rynne is eager already: so fucking eager, exactly as he said. When he peels her smallclothes down, a crystalline thread of liquid lust stretches between the fabric and her flesh, and she’s not at all embarrassed by how wet she is. 

His lips part on a harsh exhale, and he looks up at her. “This is high praise, Hawke,” he rasps. “I would taste you, if you allow it.”

His words, his sculpted lips, his fucking _voice_ : it’s like a key, unlocking and unleashing every hedonistic wish she’s ever had. 

She spreads her legs and arches one brow. “Do I look like I’m in any position to say ‘no’ to you?” she says playfully. 

He huffs in amusement. “I suppose not.” He runs his palms along her inner thighs, and she’s trembling with breathless anticipation as he spreads her wider still, and – _fuck_ , fuck, his mouth is between her legs leaving hot and greedy kisses on every fold of flesh.

She clenches her nails against the edge of the desk. It’s been months now that they’ve been together, months of sleeping together and basking in the long-awaited glory of Fenris’s uninhibited hands on her body, yet somehow he still manages to bring her to the edge of ecstasy with just a few careful laps of his tongue. He’s thorough and slow, tracing the path of her cleft to the swelling of her clit with the tip of his tongue, and Rynne is panting and whimpering like a mabari in heat. Her nails are gouging into the wood of the desk but she doesn’t _care_ , and when he presses his fingers inside of her, and it’s just so fucking _good_ that she sobs. 

He lifts his face. “Are you all right–”

“Yes!” she blurts. She twists her hips, taking his fingers deeper in the process. “Yes, please, don’t stop!” 

He shoots her a swift smile – a smile on his gorgeous face, how is she supposed to breathe? – and then he’s kissing her again, playing her body with his fingers and his mouth, and she might as well be an instrument for how well he’s tuning her: he’s easing her closer with the circling of his tongue, and he’s pushing her higher with his voracious lips, and when she finally hits her peak, it’s… it’s…

Fuck, it’s _loud_. Her ecstasy makes itself known as an uninhibited cry, and she doesn’t care: it’s an ode and a hymn to Fenris, a dedication to how good he makes her feel, and by the time she can breathe again, by the time she can open her eyes, he’s wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and smirking once more. 

The tips of his ears are bright red, and Rynne smiles. “Why so bashful?” she pants. As far as she’s concerned, he should be proud for making her come so hard.

He scratches his reddened ear. “Orana and Bodahn aren’t… home, are they?”

She grins at him. “I honestly don’t know,” she says. What’s more, she honestly doesn’t care, and she’s nowhere near finished with him yet. 

She slides closer to the edge of the desk and tugs the collar of his tunic. “Will you fuck me now?” 

He smiles as he rises to his feet, compelled by the insistent pull of her hands on his shirt. “Do I look like I am in any position to say ‘no’ to you?” he says. 

His tone is dry and playful, but she pauses in the frantic tugging of his tunic to look him in the eye. “You can, you know,” she says. Her heart is pounding for him, pounding beneath her ribs and between her legs, but she refuses to be anything like that vile sack of shit who called himself Fenris’s master. “You don’t _have_ to do anythi–”

Fenris kisses her suddenly, stealing her words and stealing her breath, and then he’s shoving his leggings down and stealing any cogent thoughts she had with the smoothness of his cock slipping between her legs. 

She gasps fitfully for air as he slides himself through her slippery heat. Fenris isn’t huge, but he’s smooth and hooded and brain-meltingly hard, and –

_Oh fuck yes please yes._ He’s inside of her, setting the sparks beneath her skin to flame as he fills her up, and she twists her trembling fingers in his tunic as his tongue fills her mouth. His hand is on her ass, pulling her closer to the edge of the desk, and soon he’s fucking her so hard that the desk is shaking with the strain of their frenzied exertions. 

She breaks away from his lips and drags in a breath, and he drives it out of her with another hard thrust. She leans back on her palms, and he leans forward and captures her nipple between his lips, and – _fuck_ , it’s good, so fucking good that she can hardly find the time to breathe, but she didn’t need to breathe anyway: she doesn’t need anything except Fenris, the edge of his teeth dragging across her nipple and his elegant lyrium-lined fingers clutching her thighs and his gorgeous hard length driving into her wet and willing heat. 

He lifts his face from her chest and cradles the back of her neck. “ _Fasta vass,_ ” he moans. “Hawke, I... I need you.” 

“I’m yours,” Rynne says instantly. The words fall easily from her lips, because they’ve always been true. 

His eyes lock on hers. Fenris isn’t a stoic man; his face is a canvas for the feelings that flit across his mind, and the tilting of his eyebrows and the softness of his lips tell her everything he doesn’t need to say. 

_Love._ She sees it in his face, and she feels marinating at the back of her tongue where it’s sat unspoken for years, but his hand is hot on her neck and his cock is driving her pleasure forth with his every forceful thrust. They’re kissing again, breathing and groaning into each other’s parted lips as he pulls her closer with his hand on her ass, and she’s bucking forward to meet him, listening avidly to the sharpening of his breath and watching the pleasure twisting in his face. His cock is hardening inside of her, growing even more steely as he sheathes himself hard and fast, and when he hits his peak, it ripples over his sweat-laced body in an ecstatic shudder. 

He drops his forehead to her collarbone, and she drapes her arm around his shoulders and inhales his hair. She can smell the citrus-scented soap from their bath, but beneath that fragrant mask is the even more fragrant scent of his skin: a warm and sleepy smell, and slightly musky now from their shared sweat. 

He lifts his face and looks at her. She steadily returns his gaze, and the longer they look at each other, the more the smile blooms across his face. 

He looks so tired and so sated, and Rynne can’t help it: she laughs. 

His smile widens into a grin. Then he’s laughing too, and she wraps her arms around his waist as their laughter sinks into the velvet-plush darkness in the corners of her bedroom. 

Fenris isn’t just her lover. He’s everything she ever hoped for, and he’s the man she’ll want forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're in the mood to chat Fenris, I am [Pikapeppa on Tumblr!](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/)


	7. A Proper Dinner Party For Adults

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. This was just an excuse to write some canon-universe PWP from Rynne Hawke’s POV. It’s set a few weeks after Rynne and Fenris finally reunite in Act 3. You know those first few weeks/months in a new relationship when you’re so crazy about your partner and all you want to do is have sex constantly? Yeah, that.

Rynne was horny. 

This in itself wasn’t a surprise. Rynne had always been a lusty sort of girl, and harbouring several years’ worth of unrequited passion for an unavailable man only seemed to have reinforced her urges. 

But she and Fenris had been together for almost three weeks now, and they’d been fucking at least twice a day ever since. With how much time they’d been spending twisted together in bed, Rynne thought the constant itch would have lessened a bit by now.

Instead, the opposite seemed to have happened. Instead of a rose-coloured memory of a single blissful night gone wrong, Rynne now had several weeks’ worth of memories of Fenris’s hands on her body. She knew exactly how well his elegant fingers could push her to her peak and just how beautifully his face could twist when he was finding his pleasure. She knew the exact scent that his sweat-laced body left on the bed, and in those moments when he left the bed to fetch a drink or to use the bathroom, Rynne would shamelessly bury her face in his pillow for the sheer pleasure of enjoying the sweet sleepy smell of his hair marking her sheets. 

She couldn’t stop marvelling at how gorgeous he looked all naked and sated in her rumpled bed. She couldn’t get over the faintly bitter taste of his climax as it flowed down her throat. Rynne was useless, besotted, completely tied around his lyrium-lined little finger, and if she could have it her way, she and Fenris would stay hidden away in her bedroom fucking each other’s brains out for the foreseeable future, thank you very much. 

Unfortunately, Rynne couldn’t have it her way. Orsino and Meredith had each sent a messenger to her house this morning, and when she finally dragged her cranky ass down the stairs, it was to find a frankly alarming pile of letters on her writing desk. 

She wrinkled her nose and turned to Orana, who was hovering at her elbow with a cup of tea. “I have a brilliant idea. Let’s start throwing these straight in the fireplace from now on.”

Orana’s jaw dropped in shock. “A-are you sure, Mistress Hawke?”

“It’s just Hawke, Orana,” Rynne said absently. “And yes, I’m sure. I’m almost certain that none of them are important.” She picked up a letter at random. “Look at this one, for example. It’s… oh, it’s from the bank. Never mind.” She gave Orana a sickly smile. “Letters stay on the table, I suppose.”

“If you say so,” Orana said cautiously. She gave Rynne the tea and hurried away. 

Rynne sighed and gingerly sipped the steaming tea. She listlessly started sorting the letters by importance, and she was trying to wrack up the courage to open the one from the bank when Fenris’s voice drifted down the stairs. 

“Sorting your mail, are you?” he said. “That’s very responsible.” He joined her at the desk and picked up her cup of tea. 

She bit her lip. Fenris was standing just behind her, not quite touching but close enough to touch if she leaned back just a little bit. His lovely sexy voice was warm with humour, and his beautiful emerald eyes were smiling at her over the rim of the cup. 

Maker’s balls, she wanted to go back upstairs. Could they go back upstairs? Wasn’t it enough that she’d sorted the mail? She didn’t need to actually read it, did she?

He quirked one eyebrow at her lack of reply, and she forced herself to breathe. “How dare you imply I’m anything less than responsible?” she quipped. “I am the epitome of responsible. Just ask Carver.”

He scoffed and set down the cup. “You don’t really want me to ask Carver.”

Rynne mock-pouted at him. “Of course I don’t. Now you’ve gone and called my bluff.” 

He chuckled, and Rynne swallowed hard. The sound of Fenris’s laugh had always made her heart skip a beat, but now she knew that laugh in a different context. She knew it as a purr against her ear when she was begging for his touch, and she knew the irresistible breathless chuckle that he preserved for the tender moments of their afterglow. His laugh was ruined now, ruined in the most wonderful possible way, and Rynne wasn’t sure she could hear it anymore without immediately wanting to strip off her clothes. 

“What?” he said. He rubbed his nose. “Is there something on my face?”

Oh balls, she’d been staring at him. She quickly shot him a coy smile. “There sure is,” she said, and she popped up onto her tiptoes and planted a noisy kiss on his lips. “Now come on, let’s go to the market and see how my most terrible investment is panning out.” 

He clicked his tongue as they made their way toward the door. “I can’t understand why you don’t sell your shares on the Bone Pit back to Hubert. That cursed place reeks of death.” 

She playfully chucked his chin. “Aw, you don’t enjoy our little day trips out there?”

He raised one eyebrow as they made their way through the bustling Hightown street. “I never have. You know that.”

“And yet you always come with me anyway,” she said shrewdly.

He shrugged. “I enjoy following you.”

Rynne stopped and gaped at him. Had he really just said something so bold? And in public, no less?

He smirked at her, and the sly look on his face was just… it was too much. She was already struggling to keep her hands off of him, and now he was smirking at her like he knew _exactly_ what she was thinking, and she couldn’t help it: she burst into laughter. 

She laughed and laughed and couldn’t stop fucking laughing, and soon Fenris was smiling too, but in a bemused sort of way. “Was it that funny?” he asked.

“No, no,” she gasped. “Not _funny,_ I – I loved it. I’m not really _laughing_ -laughing, I just…” She took a deep and shaky breath, then looked him in the face. “Oh fuck it, let’s go back to the house.”

His eyebrows leapt up. “Wha– why? We only just left.”

She took a step closer to him and grabbed his chestplate. “Because Fenris, I just want to–”

“Hawke.” 

At the sound of Aveline’s voice, Fenris stepped slightly away from her – much to Rynne’s disappointment. She shot him a wry look, then turned to Aveline with a smile. “Av! What brings you to this dreadfully fancy part of town? Have the Coterie managed to purchase a mansion hideout in the heart of Hightown?”

“No. Report of a robbery, and I’m shortstaffed,” Aveline said briskly. “But I’m glad I caught you. Did you get my letter?”

Rynne raised her eyebrows. “Letter? What letter?” 

Aveline gave her a reproving look. “I sent you an invitation a week ago.” 

Rynne stared at her in growing confusion. “An invitation to what?” She grimaced. “Please tell me it isn’t some fancy political dinner thing. I can only stomach so many pleasantries before I want to jam a corkscrew into my own eye.”

Beside her, Fenris let out a tiny cough. Aveline, meanwhile, was frowning more deeply by the second. “Donnic and I are hosting a dinner party,” she said.

“Why?” Rynne asked.

Fenris snorted softly, and Rynne grinned at him. This, of course, turned out to be a mistake; Fenris was smirking again, and Rynne _adored_ his smirk and all the heat it contained, and all she really wanted to do was kiss those smirking lips of his–

Aveline’s reply regained Rynne’s flagging attention. “Because – well, because we thought it would be nice,” she said defensively. “You lot are always going to the Hanged Man, and you know how it looks for me to be seen there, Hawke. And I know your mansion is bigger, but Donnic and I have a perfectly nice home as part of the City Guard allowance…”

 _Damn,_ Rynne thought. She hadn’t meant to hurt Aveline’s feelings. “Of course, of course it’s a nice idea!” she said hurriedly. “It’s a lovely idea, Aveline, we’ll be happy to come! When is it?”

“Tonight,” Aveline said flatly. 

_Double fucking damn,_ Rynne thought desperately. She didn’t want to go to a dinner party tonight. The only thing she wanted to eat these days was Fenris’s cock.

She forced herself to maintain a bright smile. “Tonight! Fantastic! That’s great!” she said. 

Thankfully, Fenris stepped in and saved her from her own over-enthusiasm. “Shall we bring anything?” he asked.

“Yes. Thank you, Fenris,” Aveline said somewhat pointedly. “You can bring a side dish. Donnic is making roast beef and potatoes. Varric and Sebastian are bringing sides as well, and Anders is bringing wine. Merrill said she’d bring something for dessert.”

“I’ll bring my famous punch,” Rynne offered.

“No,” Aveline said firmly. “Your punch is not invited.”

Rynne gazed at her in genuine surprise. “What? Why not? What kind of party is this without punch?”

“A proper dinner party for adults, Hawke,” Aveline said. “Which we all are, in case you needed reminding.”

Fenris turned away and scratched his nose, and Rynne _couldn’t_ look at him. If she did, she’d either start laughing again or she’d say something filthy, and Aveline’s opinion of her was clearly dropping with every passing moment.

Rynne waved dismissively. “Of course! That makes sense. Adult dinner party, Donnic’s lovely cooking, Merrill’s cake. It sounds wonderful. We’ll be there!” She nodded pertly.

Aveline eyed her suspiciously, then nodded and stepped away. “Come for five o’clock. And don’t be late.”

Rynne blinked innocently. “Me, be late? Never!” She saluted Aveline. “Guard-Captain.”

Aveline gave her a tiny smile, then waved and walked away. As soon as she was out of earshot, Fenris leaned in close to Rynne’s ear. “A party without punch? I wonder whether you’ll survive the night.”

She shivered. His lovely voice was quiet but laced with laughter, and the mere sound of it sent a pulse of heat down her throat and into the base of her belly. 

She turned and stepped close to him. “The real question is how I’m going to survive a night of sitting next to you and not being able to stroke that lovely cock of yours.”

He scoffed and ran a hand through his hair, then darted a quick look around the street. “ _Kaffas,_ Hawke. You will make me blush.”

She smiled slowly. “Can you show me?”

His eyebrows rose. “Show you what? My… blushing?”

“Yes,” she purred. “Every last blushing inch of you.” She leaned into his chest and curled her fingers against his abdomen.

She waited eagerly as his face shifted from surprise to something much more heated. She lifted her chin in invitation, then watched avidly as the tip of his tongue flicked out to wet his lips. 

“What about Hubert and the Bone Pit?” he asked. His voice was quiet: an intimate near-whisper, like the kind of voice he would use while murmuring to her in bed. 

She pressed herself more firmly against his chest. “Fuck Hubert and the Bone Pit,” she breathed. “Actually, I take that back. I’d much rather fuck _you_.”

His eyes darted up to meet hers, and Rynne stared breathlessly at him. Then he placed his hand on her hip.

Her breath left her in a sharp sigh. It was so innocuous, really: just the touch of his hand – the mere resting of his palm on her hip. It shouldn’t be affecting her this way; it shouldn’t be raising the pulse at her throat or bringing a thrill to life between her legs. It was just his hand, after all. She’d been groped more firmly than this during the first ten seconds of stepping into the Hanged Man.

But this wasn’t some random smelly drunk; this was _Fenris_. This was Fenris’s hand on her hip while they were standing in public. Public touching – or any touching outside of the bedroom, really – was something he was still getting used to. But here he was, touching her in public, placing his hand on her body in an affectionate manner right here in the middle of the street… 

Rynne was so fucking thrilled that she almost leapt on him on the spot.

He tilted his face closer to hers, and she stopped breathing altogether. “Back to your house it is, then,” he whispered.

She pulled in a breath, then beamed at him. “Good,” she murmured. “That’s all I really wanted, anyway.”

Two minutes later, they were back in her mansion. Five minutes after that, they were naked in her bed. Fenris was pressing her hands into the mattress while his cock slid through the creamy heat between her legs, and Rynne was staring at his parted and panting lips in a deliriously happy haze. 

Well, at least she’d _tried_ to leave the house today. That had to count for something, right?

****************

Later that evening, Rynne scuffed her feet sheepishly as she and Fenris walked away from Aveline’s house. 

She glanced sideways at Fenris and chewed her lip uncertainly. His expression was very neutral, and he hadn’t said a word since Aveline had told them in exasperation to go home. 

The evening had started out well enough. She and Fenris had had sex twice that afternoon in addition to their usual morning fuck, and by the time they’d arrived at Aveline’s house fifteen minutes late – very good by Rynne’s standards – she was feeling quite confident that she’d be able to make it through the evening without getting overly, er, _distracted._

Everyone had seemed pretty stilted when Rynne and Fenris first walked in – not surprising to Rynne, given Aveline’s agenda of a so-called ‘adult party’. So Rynne had provided a little social lubrication by picking a topic at random to talk about. “Did you all notice it’s a full moon?” she said cheerfully. “Funnily enough, this is the best time to pick blood lotus. The moonlight brings out its aphrodisiac properties.” She wiggled her eyebrows. 

Merrill blinked. “Really? I didn’t know that.”

Rynne winked at her. “It’s a useful tip, that. Store it away for later.”

Merrill tittered, but Aveline sighed. “You and that pirate wench. It’s always got to be something dirty with you two, hasn’t it?”

Rynne widened her eyes. “Why Aveline, I didn’t know you saw potion-making as a kink.”

Anders and Merrill laughed, and Aveline rolled her eyes. Then Fenris spoke up, and in Rynne’s opinion, _that_ was where the trouble began.

“We could talk about religion or politics,” he said. “Those topics are never controversial.”

His tone was very dry and _extremely_ appealing, and Rynne gazed dreamily at the tiny hint of a smirk on his lips.

Sebastian tutted playfully. “Are you looking to start a war in Aveline’s house?” he said to Fenris.

Anders huffed. “Maybe we should talk about magic while we’re at it. That’ll really start a war.” 

To Rynne’s surprise and delight, Fenris didn’t rise to the obvious bait; instead, he leaned back on the couch and swirled his wine glass. “And maybe _you_ should bring finer wine next time you’re invited to someone’s home.”

There was a general _ooh_ of appreciation at Fenris’s remark, and Varric smirked at Anders. “Better find yourself some elfroot for that burn, Blondie.”

Merrill blinked at her glass. “Is the wine bad? I didn’t notice.”

Donnic eyed his glass apprehensively. “It does smell a little off. Where did you say you got this, Anders?”

They continued to tease Anders about the wine, and Rynne tried to pay attention and join in like she usually did, but her attention kept drifting back to Fenris. 

He wasn’t even doing anything provocative, for fuck’s sake. But Rynne’s enamoured brain couldn’t stop translating his every move into something more erotic. Every time his fingers ran along the stem of his wine glass, she couldn’t help but imagine those fingers trailing softly along the line of her throat. When he lifted the glass to his lips, all she could think about was the feel of his lips caressing the heat between her legs. He smiled at something Varric said, and all she could see was the tender curl of his smile as he pushed her down on the bed and crawled onto the mattress to join her. 

Rynne _tried_ to be a good guest at Aveline’s dinner party. She made clever comments when the others spoke to her, and she laughed when everyone else was laughing, but she couldn’t stop watching Fenris. She couldn’t stop staring at his mouth when he was speaking, and she couldn’t stop thinking about those evocatively gesturing hands stroking her skin. When he ran his hand absently through his hair, she couldn’t stop imagining her own fingers sinking into his soft snow-white hair as he dragged his teeth over her nipple–

“Can we go home and fuck now?” she asked him.

His head whipped up in surprise – in all fairness, _everyone_ ’s heads whipped up at her words – and Rynne instantly wanted to punch herself. Fuck, _fuck_ , she hadn’t meant to say that out loud. 

Aveline pinched the bridge of her nose. “Hawke, in the name of all that’s holy…”

She grimaced, but it wasn’t really Aveline’s reaction she was concerned about; it was Fenris’s. He was staring at her in silence, and his eyes were wide with surprise, and Rynne was feeling guiltier by the second. It was one thing to make playful lewd comments to Fenris when they were just friends and she could hide it under the guise of flirting with everyone, but things were different now. She and Fenris were together now – blissfully, wonderfully _together_ – and their relationship wasn’t a secret by any means, but Fenris was so private about his personal matters.

She waited in agony for him to react. When he didn’t, she turned to Aveline with a smile. “So! That new guard rotation you put in place the other day. That’s sounding very, er, fascinating. Can you tell me–”

Aveline sighed loudly. “Just go, all right?

Rynne raised her eyebrows. “Eh?”

“Go home,” Aveline commanded. She shot Fenris a stern look. “You too. We’ll try this again when you’re ready to be mature adults.”

And that was how Rynne and Fenris were unceremoniously evicted from Aveline’s dinner party. 

Rynne eyed him nervously as they made their way back to her mansion. He hadn’t spoken a word since her lusty exclamation, and she wasn’t quite sure what to make of his silence. She knew he wasn’t mad, per se; when Fenris was mad, he made sure she knew it. But that somehow only made his quiet all the more unnerving. 

There was nothing for it. If he wasn’t going to talk, then Rynne certainly was. “I hope you weren’t hungry,” she said. “Donnic’s cooking really did smell good. You remember how bad a cook he was when he and Aveline first started dating? Funny how married life seems to have turned him into a real domestic sort.”

Fenris nodded, but still didn’t speak. Rynne swallowed hard, then smiled at him more brightly still. “I don’t know about you, but I still remember that pie he made that one time for your weekly card game. You remember the one? It had blueberries and blue cheese in it for some unholy reason–”

He suddenly grabbed her arm. She squeaked in surprise, but before she could ask what was wrong, he was hustling her into the nearest alley. 

He trapped her against the dirty stone wall. “Stop talking,” he grunted.

She stared breathlessly at him. If this was any other context, she’d be delighted at the thought of being penned between Fenris’s lovely lean body and the wall. But his face was creased into a scowl and his chest was rising and falling quite heavily – oh no, was he mad at her after all?

She grimaced. “Fuck. Am I in trouble?”

“Yes,” he said. Then he shook his head roughly. “No. I… I’m…” He took a deep breath, then he surged forward and kissed her.

She instantly arched toward him. Her eager lips parted for him, and a shameless moan escaped her throat before he muffled it with his wine-flavoured tongue.

And his hands – Maker fucking save her: his hands were sliding down the small of her back to cradle her ass. Rynne tilted her pelvis toward him in a desperate bid for contact, and to her utter delight, Fenris pulled her closer with his hands on her ass. He pressed his hips into hers, and she broke their desperate kiss with a gasp as his hard bulge pressed against the vee of her thighs.

She swallowed convulsively before speaking. “So… so it seems I’m not the only dirty-minded idiot who’s preoccupied by the thought of us being naked and sweaty–”

“Shut up, Hawke,” he groaned. He nipped her lower lip, drawing another tiny gasp from her throat, then kissed her again and pushed his knee between her legs. 

Rynne broke from his mouth and dragged in a tremulous breath. Her hips were already rocking forward to meet his thigh, and his face was still twisted in a beautiful lustful scowl, and… Maker’s fucking balls, it would take another ten minutes for them to get home. A whole ten torturous minutes… 

“Fenris,” she whimpered. 

He brushed his thumb over her lips. “Stop talking,” he whispered. “I can’t _think_ when you are talking. I can’t… I can think of nothing but this.” He pulled her more firmly against his thigh.

Rynne pressed her lips together hard to quell another moan. Frankly, she was relieved by his admission. He was so well-behaved in public that she’d been half-worried that she was alone in her obsessive thoughts. 

She clasped his neck in her hands. “Me neither,” she breathed. “I can’t think of anything else either. I want you all the time, and everything you do turns me on–”

“Rynne,” he begged. “Stop. Talking.” He kissed her once more, and Rynne happily submitted to his lips and his hands on her neck and her butt – no, not her butt anymore, but travelling over her hip and up to her waist, and – and higher…?

His thumb stroked the edge of her bustier beneath her shirt, and it was too much: his hands _over_ her clothes when she just wanted them stroking her skin? The tempting hint of heat from his palms, separated from her skin by the offensive barrier of her shirt? It was a waste, a waste of his hands and all the ways they could make her come undone, and she’d waited long enough. 

She dragged her lips away from his and arched her chest toward him. “Fuck me,” she whimpered. 

He exhaled hard. “Hawke…”

“Please, Fenris, fuck me,” she begged. She reached down and clumsily started unlacing her trousers. 

He grabbed her hands. “Stop,” he hissed. “Not here.”

“Please,” she whispered. “A quick one now, and when we get home I’ll treat you real nice, I promise.”

He dragged a hand through his hair, then let out a little laugh. “ _Festis bei umo canavarum,_ ” he muttered. “You’re irrepressible.” 

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘insatiable’,” she purred, and she trailed her fingers down his chest. 

He grabbed her hand again. “Come,” he said, and he pulled her out of the alley. 

His bare feet were silent as they ran, leaving Rynne to hear the full cacophony of her own harsh breathing and her heart pounding in her ears. They pelted back to her house without talking, and by the time Rynne was shoving her key into the lock, she was so out of breath she nearly couldn’t speak. 

She wrestled the door open and stumbled inside. Fenris shut the door behind her and locked it, and before she had a chance to do more than take a breath, he was walking her backwards with those strong elegant hands of his on her hips. 

Fenris crowded her against the wall once more, and Rynne stared at him as she tried to catch her breath. There was a light glow of sweat on his nose, and his lips were parted as he fought for breath. 

She reached up and started unlacing her shirt. “You’re fond of this wall, aren’t you?”

His eyes flicked from her fingers up to her eyes. “Pardon?”

“This wall,” she said with a cheeky smile. “This was where you first kissed me. Remember?”

He exhaled slowly. “Of course I remember,” he said. “I could never forget.” 

Rynne grinned and finished loosening the laces of her shirt. Fenris gently pushed her hand aside and parted the neckline of her shirt, and when he ran his fingers lightly over the swell of her breast, she shuddered in anticipation. But then he spoke, and his words were serious and soft.

“This is not like before,” he said. “You are aware of that?”

She glanced at him. His expression was tender and a little bit melancholy. “What do you mean?” she asked breathlessly.

He tipped her chin up and looked her in the eye. “Everything that transpires between us now. It… it is not like before.” He licked his lips slowly. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t thinking before. I came to you without thinking, and I wasn’t ready. But now…” He exhaled once more, then suddenly pressed himself against her.

He clasped her neck in both hands, and Rynne melted shamelessly into his body. He brushed her nose with his, then drifted his lips over her ear. 

“Now this is all I think about,” he whispered. “Stripping you bare, laying with you, the touch of your lips on mine, it’s… it is all I want, Hawke.” He stroked her neck with his thumbs. “If I could go back and show myself all that I was missing by forgoing all those years with you…” 

Her swollen heart was pounding with adoration now rather than exertion. She shook her head and wrapped her arms around him. “Your turn to shut up now,” she said. “No regrets, Fenris. Don’t think about before. Just be here with me now.” 

“I am,” he murmured. “I am right here.” He stroked her neck, then ran his knuckles over the swell of her breast, and Rynne panted fitfully as his fingers moved closer to the edge of the bustier cup without dipping inside. 

He lowered his head and dropped the softest kiss on her breast, and Rynne snapped. She roughly untucked her shirt and pulled it over her head, then threw it on the floor. “Fuck me,” she begged. “Please, Fenris, I’ve been waiting long enough–”

He lifted her up abruptly, and Rynne hastily grabbed his shoulders as he walked them toward the stairs. A few seconds later, he shoved open her bedroom door and tossed her on the bed. 

“Take off your clothes,” he said. He turned away to close the bedroom door. 

Rynne eagerly obeyed his command, kicking off her slippers and fumbling with her trouser laces at the same time. “So bossy,” she purred. “I’ll listen to that bossy tone anytime.”

He turned back to her with a smirk and sauntered toward the bed. “Says the woman who has been making carnal demands of me all day.” 

She grinned at him. “If you don’t like my carnal demands, maybe you shouldn’t keep fulfilling them so well.” She lifted her hips and roughly pushed her trousers down, then hooked her thumbs into her smalls, but before she could tug them down as well, Fenris took her hands in his.

He pushed her hands aside and brushed his fingers over the damp fabric between her legs. A bolt of pleasure ran straight from the apex her thighs up to her throat, and she released it in a gasp of want. “Please,” she begged. “Touch me.” 

Fenris hummed thoughtfully. “More demands,” he mused. He carefully pulled the crotch of her smallclothes aside and smoothed his fingers through her slippery warmth.

She tensed and jerked her hips. His touch was so fucking gentle, just a light and careful petting of his elegant fingers, and every delicate pass of his fingertips seemed to lift the needy buzzing between her legs to an even higher pitch.

“Fenris, _please,_ ” she begged. “I want more.”

He chuckled – Maker save her from that beautiful laugh – then kneeled at the foot of the bed. “I’m doing as you asked,” he said. “I am touching you.”

She burst out a breathless laugh. “You horrible tease.”

He continued to pet her with a light and gentle touch. “Persuade me, Hawke. You’re very good at that.”

He was smirking again, and he sounded so damned cocksure and smug. It would have made her laugh if she wasn’t so desperate. 

She sat up on her elbows and looked him in the eye. “I am _hungry_ for you, Fenris,” she said baldly. “I don’t just want you. I fucking _need_ you. I need you inside of me and touching me, and I swear I’m going to fucking fall apart if you don’t put those gorgeous hands–”

He pulled her smallclothes off and slicked his tongue between her legs. Rynne broke off with a cry of rapture, and Fenris ran his tongue along her flesh and up to the rapidly beating pulse point at the apex of her thighs.

Then his hands were moving too, smoothing along the insides of her thighs in a tender caress that complemented the torrid stroke of his tongue, and Rynne undulated toward him in a wordless bid for more. It all felt so fucking good, his mouth between her legs and his fingers gripping her thigh while his other hand slid up to rest on her belly, and it didn’t matter that she and Fenris had just finished doing this a few hours ago. It didn’t matter that the muscles of her inner thighs were perpetually sore from how often they’d been having sex. No matter how many times she had him, she always wanted more. 

That was the problem with Fenris: he was everything, _everything_ Rynne had been wanting for so many years. And now that she had him here, with that smile and that fine lean body and that fucking _laugh_ that she loved so much, she couldn’t get enough. 

He carefully lapped her clit and curled his fingers inside of her, and her climax tore through her body in a rapturous shiver. She spread her legs wide and cried out, her hips rolling toward his face as though to steal every last scrap of pleasure that his skillful tongue could provide, and when the tips of her toes were numb from the strength of her climax, she lowered her hips to the bed and sat up.

“Get naked,” she panted. “Right now.” Fenris was still fully clothed, and in Rynne’s opinion, covering that gorgeous body with clothes was a crime. 

He wiped his face on her thigh and rose to his feet, then started shedding his clothes. “I should tell you to do the same,” he said, and he shot a pointed look at her bustier. 

She grinned and started untying the laces on her bustier. By the time the bustier was discarded by the bed, Fenris was bare from the waist up.

Rynne shamelessly studied the lean muscles of his tattooed back as he pushed his leggings down. His cock was standing at attention, and when he turned to face her, a rush of saliva filled her mouth at the perfect sight.

She rolled onto her side and beckoned him close. He smirked at her as he approached the bed. “All right. Now what demands–”

She hooked her hand around his thigh and pulled him closer, then took his cock into her mouth. He gasped in shock, and his hand rose to cup her cheek. 

She reluctantly released him to meet his eye. “Is this all right?” she asked breathlessly.

“Yes,” he rasped. “Yes, of – yes, I want it. You just – you took me by surprise.”

She smiled. “I told you I was hungry,” she said, and she took him into her mouth once more.

He groaned and sank his fingers into her hair, and Rynne closed her eyes to better savour the feel of him sliding across her hard palate toward her throat. She angled her head to take him deeper and listened carefully to the quality of his breathing, eager to give him the same amount of pleasure that he’d given to her. 

He moaned and pumped his hips slightly, and a thrill of vicarious pleasure rippled through her chest. She curled her hips toward him by instinct, conditioned and cued by the sound of his pleasure. 

Then she gasped in surprise. His hand was pushing her thighs apart, and then his finger was sliding inside of her. 

She moaned helplessly around his cock. He was curling his finger inside of her, coaxing her eagerness forth with a slow come-hither motion, and within seconds, Rynne was thrusting toward his hand with rising desperation. 

It was too much and not enough. It felt so damned good, but she wanted more. His fingers were filling her pussy and his cock was filling her throat, but she needed _more_. She needed _him_ , all of him, his body flush to hers and his skin sliding hot and sweaty against her own. She needed his gasping voice in her ear and his adoring kiss on her lips and his careful stroking hands, and she needed him to fill her up until she was complete. 

She pushed his hand away and sat back on her knees, then dragged him onto the bed. “Hold me,” she whimpered. 

“Yes,” he breathed. His hands were everywhere now, tracing the edge of her jaw, sliding through her hair and down to her neck, fondling her breast and thumbing her nipple, encircling her waist as he pulled her onto his lap to straddle him…

He pulled her firmly onto the length of his cock. A wave of sheer, perfect pleasure fanned out through her thighs and up through her belly, and she cried out in ecstasy. 

He dropped his gasping lips to her breast. He was supporting himself with one arm, but his other arm was tight around her waist as he pumped his hips to fill her up. His skin was just as heated and sweat-laced as she had hoped, and he was so… 

Fuck it, he really was everything. He was the only lover who had ever made her feel this _much_ before. There was no one like him, no one she could ever imagine filling her body and her heart in this exquisite way, and there was only one reason for that: Fenris was the love of her life.

And _that,_ she realized, was why their sex felt so fucking good. Every time they came together, every time their clothes fell away as they fell into bed, it was more than just a frenzied expression of lust. It was more than just an exchange of pleasure. It was an encounter of two bodies that ran to the same rhythm and two hearts that pulsed to the same dizzying beat of love. Fenris was the man of her dreams, the man she’d dreamed of for years and the man who held her close when her dreams were too difficult to bear, and he was the only person she would ever love this much for as long as she lived. 

They moved together with increasing urgency, his hands gripping her body and her fingers tightening in his hair as she rode him at a furious rhythm, and when Fenris gasped in climax, she hugged him tightly and savoured every fitful shudder that rippled across his skin. 

Once his body had gone still with relaxation, he lifted his face from her chest and smiled, and Rynne smiled helplessly back at him. She brushed his damp hair away from his face. “I know why Aveline really kicked us out,” she said.

Fenris huffed in amusement. “I thought her reason was pretty clear.”

Rynne smiled more widely. “Yes, all right, I’m a crass and dirty bitch. But that’s not _really_ why. It’s because she knows what this is like.” She rubbed his earlobe affectionately. “You remember her and Isabela talking, back when she and Donnic first got together. Aveline knows what this is like.” 

Fenris’s smile grew soft. He wrapped his arm around her waist and rolled them over carefully until he was lounging between her legs. 

He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “You may be right about that,” he murmured. 

She smiled at him wordlessly. His face was full of fondness and so damned handsome, and Rynne simply admired him until he lowered his lovely face to hers for a kiss.

They kissed for a long and leisurely time, tongues twining and lips meeting until Rynne lost track of the time. But eventually she _felt_ him. 

She shifted her hips, and a ripple of anticipation rose to her throat. It was the telltale pressure of his cock hardening inside of her, even though he had never pulled away.

She leaned away from his infinitely tempting lips. “Again?” she asked eagerly. 

He smirked. “You said you were insatiable. I need to test the theory.”

His damned voice was a deep and teasing purr, and Rynne basked in the glorious sound of it. “I like the sound of that,” she breathed, and she flexed her hips to meet him.

He inhaled sharply, then lowered his face and kissed her again. And for the rest of the night, she and Fenris moved and shifted together, blissfully making the love that would tie them together for the rest of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am [Pikapeppa on Tumblr,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) if anyone wants to come and scream about FennyFen with me! xoxo


	8. Make Love, Not War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW. Sex in the war room in Skyhold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill for the DA Drunk Writing Circle Friday: "I love you" over a cup of tea, from @contreparry. 
> 
> This smutty oneshot takes place during my [ Fenris the Inquisitor fic, _Lovers In A Dangerous Time._](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17806493/chapters/42011807) I am keeping it separate since it is from Rynne's POV.

Rynne padded silently through the short hallway toward the war room with a tray in her hands. She paused outside the door and shifted the tray to one arm, then knocked on the door. 

“Midnight tea service,” she called. “Anyone awake?”

A moment later, one of the heavy double doors creaked open, and Fenris gave her a small but distracted smile. “It’s late,” he said, and he stood back to let her in. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

“Me, asleep before two in the morning? Don’t be foolish,” she said breezily. She swept into the room and set the tray on the war table, then turned to Fenris with a smile. “Besides, I could practically hear your mental cry for a cup of coffee from all the way upstairs.” She tapped the teapot on the tray. “No coffee since it’s so late, but I did make you some tea. I didn’t even burn the leaves.”

He smirked as he joined her. “You only burned the tea leaves that one time.”

“I know, but it was a memorable time, no?” she said brightly. She poured two cups of tea, then added sugar to her cup and a splash of milk to hers and Fenris’s both. 

She handed him his cup. He took it with a nod of thanks, and Rynne eyed him as he sipped from the cup, then let out a heavy sigh. 

Maker, he looked tired. This was the fourth night in a row that Rynne had gone to bed without him – or tried to, at least. She’d managed to fall asleep quite quickly the first night, but it had become increasingly difficult to sleep without the familiar heat of his body curled against hers, especially when she knew he was working so hard. 

She ran one hand along his arm. “How are you doing?” 

“I’m well,” he said absently. He sidled over to the war table, and Rynne watched with a pang as his eyes roved over the strategy markers and reports that were sprinkled across the table’s surface. 

She nodded an acknowledgement and sipped her tea. Fenris sipped his tea as well, and the silence stretched between them for an awkward beat. 

He looked up at her and raised one eyebrow. “What? Why are you staring at me?”

She smiled slowly at him, then laughed and put her cup on the table. “Fenris, I can see the cogs turning in your brain. Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

He exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. “You don’t want to know about all of this. _I_ don’t even want to know about all of this.”

“I do want to know,” she insisted. “Your problems are my problems, remember? That’s what marriage is all about.”

He huffed in amusement. “Was that meant to be comforting?” 

“You know, I’m not quite sure,” she said cheerfully. She hopped up to sit on the table, then picked up her cup of tea once more. “Go on, handsome, tell me what’s bothering you.”

He sighed again and put his cup down. “All right, since you insist. The greatest headaches are coming from Orlais.”

“Isn’t that always the way,” Rynne drawled. “The biggest everything comes out of Orlais. The biggest masks, the biggest skirts, the biggest headaches.”

Fenris snorted softly. “You aren’t wrong.” He pointed to a marker on the city of Lydes. “We invested various resources to place this noble woman named Caralina in charge of Lydes, since their previous duke was killed in the civil war. Months ago, she sent coin to the Inquisition and roused a number of her allies to do the same. But Leliana informed me today that a significant portion of that coin was diverted from the alienage in Lydes.” He moved his teacup out of the way and gestured at Val Royeaux. “I want Celene to make restitution to the alienage. She has spoken before of improving the lives of her elven citizens; now is the time to see if she will put her coin where her mouth is, literally. But it may take months before we can negotiate the return of the blasted coin.” 

He picked up the teacup and gulped its contents, then replaced the cup on the table with a clatter. “I have been told that I can’t simply send the coin from the Inquisition’s coffers,” he said flatly. “Not that we have coin to spare. I am pouring everything I can into Emprise du Lion and the elevator shaft in the Storm Coast.” He gestured sharply at Val Royeaux once more. “Meanwhile, Frederic has secured some funding thanks to his dragon research, but according to the University of Orlais, it can only be used to further the research efforts into the impact of the Breach on local flora and fauna. No matter that the coin could desperately be used for rebuilding. But as Leliana would say, such is the way of things in Orlais.” 

His voice was rough with frustration, and Rynne listened with an ache in her chest as he continued to outline the problems on the war table. She couldn’t help but think back to when this had all started. Fenris had been so displeased about the anchor, and so disgruntled by the way everyone kept asking him to decide what the Inquisition should do next. She remembered so clearly how uncertain he’d been and how badly he’d wanted to simply leave this all behind, and at the time, Rynne would have done anything to take the burden of this responsibility away from him. 

_And look at him now,_ she thought. Now, he was… well, he was still disgruntled, of course; Rynne would be too, if she was being forced to get involved in the politics of Orlais and Ferelden and the Free Marches and even bloody Orzammar, if that lyrium mine problem in the Storm Coast was anything to go by. But Fenris was… Andraste’s knickers, he was so damned _competent_. Far more competent than Rynne had ever been as the Champion of Kirkwall. The war table was a fucking mess of clashing factions and decades-old arguments and tangled complexities, but Fenris was maneuvering his way through it all with his brilliant analytical mind, and Rynne was just so fucking proud of him. 

And if she could, she would still do anything to take the anchor and its crushing responsibilities away from him. 

Her heart was swelling in her chest – whether with sorrow or affection, she couldn’t quite tell, but she couldn’t keep it to herself. 

She lowered her cup of tea. “I love you,” she blurted.

He stopped mid-sentence and looked at her in surprise, then gave her a wry twist of a smile. “This is boring, I know. You don’t need to pander to me to stop me from speaking of it.”

She grinned at him. “Who said I was pandering to make you stop? Maybe I want you to keep talking forever.” She batted her eyelashes. “I do love that growly sexy voice of yours.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Even when I am discussing the fascinating twists and turns of familial marriages and backstabbing in Orlais?” he drawled.

“Even then,” Rynne assured him. “You could list the names of all the Divines for the past fifty years and it would still be appealing.”

He shrugged and folded his arms. “If you insist. To start, we have Cassandra – well, Victoria now, I suppose. There was Justinia the fifth, and Beatrix the… third, I believe? And before that–”

Rynne laughed. “All right, all right, you called my bluff. Anything but Chantry history.” She reached out and took his hand. 

He allowed her to pull him closer to stand between her legs. “Should I recite a grocery list, then?” he said. “I seem to recall you saying once that that would turn you on.” 

He was smiling now, and Rynne beamed at him in turn, delighted to have chased the frustrated frown from his face. “Ooh, yes,” she said with relish. “Start by listing the produce. That will really get me going.”

He chuckled, then took a step closer to her and rested his palms on her bare thighs. “Carrots,” he said quietly. “Turnips. Potatoes. Onions…” 

His voice was a low and intimate purr, and it was absolutely fucking ludicrous. Rynne laughed and gripped the collar of his tunic. “Keep going,” she urged. “I can feel my underpants melting already.” 

He snorted a laugh and rubbed his mouth. Then, to her surprise, he took her jaw in his hand and turned her head to the side.

He brushed his lips over the sensitive spot where her jaw met her ear. “Grapes,” he murmured. “Oranges, if they are in season. Apples, whether they are in season or not, because they are my favourite.” 

A shiver of heat coursed from her throat straight down to her groin, and she let out a shaky little breath. Fenris’s purring voice got to her no matter the context, but combined with the gentle brush of his lips against her ear – no, not her ear now, but the side of her throat… 

He kissed her neck softly, the gentlest press of a kiss, and Rynne lifted her chest toward him.

He leaned away from her. “Do you want to hear more of the list?” he asked.

She gazed adoringly into his gemlike green eyes. They were crinkled at the corners with mirth, and his lips were curled into the most gorgeous little smirk, and… Maker’s balls, how was it possible to love someone this much?

She nodded eagerly. “Please, go on. Groceries have never sounded so appealing. By the time you get to the dairy products, I might actually come.”

He huffed in amusement, then slid his palms up along her thighs and leaned in close to her ear once more. “Garlic. Radishes. Milk. A wheel of cheese large enough that Cole can’t steal it.”

Rynne forced herself to breathe. His thumbs were skimming along her inner thighs, his fingers sliding the silk of her dressing gown away from her hips, and his mouth was travelling down to her throat once more…

His teeth grazed the side of her neck, sending her pulse into a sharp and desirous spike. He lifted his lips from her neck and looked at her once more. “Should I–”

She hooked her fingers around his neck and kissed him. 

Fenris parted his lips, and Rynne greedily nipped his lower lip before dipping her tongue into his mouth. He tasted like blackberries and herbs from the tea they’d drunk, and Rynne eagerly stroked his tongue with hers before kissing him once more.

She reached for the laces of his trousers, but he broke their kiss and took her hands in his. “Hawke,” he rasped.

She shifted closer to the edge of the table. “I want you in my mouth,” she breathed. She could see the shape of his cock pressing at the confines of his trousers, and now that he was in a more relaxed sort of mood, all she really wanted was to make him even happier and more relaxed. 

His eager breath ghosted across her lips, but he shook his head. “Not here.”

“Why not?” she whispered. She lifted her chin and kissed his jaw. “Everyone else is asleep.”

Fenris shook his head again. “Just… not here,” he murmured. 

Rynne wasn’t convinced, however. He’d released her hands while she was speaking, and now his own hands were toying with the belt of her dressing gown, and she watched with rising anticipation as he slowly pulled the silken bow free. 

He slid the two halves of her gown apart, then exhaled sharply. His eyes dropped from her collarbones to her bare breasts and down to her simple cotton smallclothes, and Rynne shamelessly leaned her palms back on the war table to better permit his perusal. 

He dragged his eyes back up to her face. “You went to the kitchen to make tea while wearing only this?”

She shrugged, pleased when the robe slipped off of her tattooed left shoulder. “Sure,” she said casually. “Why not? No one was around to see anything.” Then she tilted her head. “Well, aside from the guards in the Great Hall when my nipple slipped out...” 

His face melted into a look of shocked dismay, and Rynne laughed. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Nobody saw when my nipple slipped out.”

He scoffed. “ _Fasta vass._ You are unbelievable.”

“Thank you,” she said happily. “I try my best.”

He smiled at her, then stepped closer and kissed her again. His hand slid from her neck down to her bare left shoulder, and then his lips were following the path of his hand, nipping a tender trail along the tendon in her throat and grazing the line of her collarbone. 

She gasped in an eager breath. His mouth was travelling lower, moving across the rising curve of her breast and toward her nipple, and Maker’s fucking balls, it felt so good…

 _No,_ she told herself. This wasn’t about her; it was about Fenris, about making _Fenris_ feel good and relaxed so he could maybe come upstairs and get some sleep. It wasn’t about Rynne and her rapidly rising libido, or the way Fenris’s tongue was now lapping at her puckered nipple with just the right amount of pressure to make her want to beg for more…

She reached out and stroked the hard curve of his cock, and he grabbed her wrist. “I said not here,” he growled.

His voice was rough with lust, and the hint of dominance in his tone made her own lust ratchet even higher. She gazed at him entreatingly. “If you don’t want me to grab your cock, maybe you should stop kissing me on the war table,” she panted.

He stared at her silently for a moment, his chest rising and falling deeply in time with his ragged breaths, and Rynne waited impatiently for him to respond. 

He released her hand and tipped her chin up. “Perhaps kissing you on the war table is what I’m in the mood for.”

Andraste’s sacred ass, she _liked_ the roughness in his voice. Not to mention the obvious implication in his words. “What kind of kissing are we talking about, exactly?” she asked breathlessly.

He raised one eyebrow. Then he tugged her right up to the edge of the table and pressed one knuckle between her legs. 

A shock of sensation and _want_ burst through her belly, completely shattering her resolve to focus on his pleasure instead of hers. Fenris slowly rubbed his knuckle over her smallclothes, nudging her clit with a perfectly torturous degree of pressure, and Rynne couldn’t stop the breathy whimper that burst from her lips.

She grabbed his tunic. “Fenris,” she whined. 

“Be quiet,” he whispered, and he glanced at the war room doors. Then he stepped away from the war table and strode over to the double doors. 

He locked the doors, then strode over to the far wall and selected one of the chairs that were stacked in the corner and seemingly never used, and Rynne watched avidly as he dragged the chair over to the war table and positioned it in front of her. He sat in the chair and pushed her legs apart, and before Rynne could crack a joke or commend him for his forethought or beg him to just fucking _touch_ her already, he pulled the crotch of her smallclothes to the side and slicked his tongue between her legs. 

A shiver of sheer fucking ecstasy rippled through her body, and she lifted her hips toward his mouth. “Let me get this straight,” she gasped. “You won’t let me suck your cock in this room, but you’ll go down on me?”

He lifted his face and looked at her. “Are you complaining?”

“Maker’s balls, no,” she said hastily. “Not at all.”

“I thought not,” he said, and he lowered his mouth to her pussy once more. 

She leaned back on her palms and shamelessly spread her legs to better enjoy his carnal kisses. Fenris always made her feel like he was really _tasting_ her rather than just trying to make her come: he used his lips as much as his tongue, kissing her and stroking her dew-slicked folds with the same delicate focus that he gave her swollen clit, and the feeling of his lips and tongue moving in tandem never failed to drive her to the height of impatience. In the space of a few blissful minutes, her climax was racing through her body, pulsing through her thighs and her calves and forcing a gasping cry from her throat, and she shoved her trembling hand against her mouth to muffle herself. 

He dropped one last tender kiss between her legs, then wiped his mouth on her thigh. The moment he released the crotch of her smallclothes, Rynne slid off of the table and kneeled at his feet.

She gazed desperately up at him. “Kiss me,” she pleaded.

He smiled slightly, then leaned forward and kissed her just as she’d asked. His lips held the scent of her pleasure and his tongue tasted of salt, and Rynne whimpered into his mouth as the reminder of her own orgasm drove a fresh bolt of desire into her belly. 

She slid her palms up along his thighs, and Fenris sighed against her lips. “Hawke…”

“Yes?” she breathed. She moved her hands higher and closer to his waistband, then paused and studied his face. 

His lips were parted as he breathed, and his eyes were closed. Slowly, leaving him with ample time to stop her, Rynne hooked her fingers into the waistband of his trousers. 

He exhaled slowly, but didn’t open his eyes. So Rynne pulled slowly at his laces. 

Fenris didn’t stop her. When his trousers were undone, Rynne eagerly wrapped her hand around his cock. 

He inhaled sharply and lifted his hips, and Rynne needed no further prompting: she bent over him and took his cock into her mouth. He groaned and jerked his hips, pushing his hard length across her tongue and back toward the softness of her throat, and Rynne angled her head to take him as deeply as she could. 

A moment later, however, Fenris ran his hand over her hair. “Hawke, wait.” 

She released his cock and looked up at him. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just…” He trailed off and glanced at the door. 

She soothingly stroked his thighs. “It’s all right. You locked it. Nobody is going to come in.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I just don’t, um…” He shifted restlessly on the chair. “This room isn’t… conducive.” To Rynne’s intense disappointment, he began to tuck his lovely hard length back into the confinement of his trousers, glancing at the war table as he did so. 

And suddenly Rynne understood. Of course this room didn’t put him in the mood. The bloody war table was right there at his eye level, laden with all of the problems and stresses and frustrations that had been keeping him so preoccupied for the past few days. Of course he couldn’t fully relax with all those reminders of his responsibilities right there in his face. 

She stood up and straddled his lap, effectively blocking his view of the table. “You know, Cullen and Piper have had sex in here.”

His eyes went wide. “They have not.”

“They have,” Rynne said pertly. “She told me. So have Bull and Dorian.”

Fenris stared at her, and Rynne nearly laughed at the incredulity in his face. “How did they get in here?” he demanded. “It’s locked when it’s not in use.”

She shrugged and draped her arms around his neck. “I don’t know. Ancient qunari secret, maybe?”

Fenris huffed in amusement. “I wonder how Josephine and Leliana would feel knowing this room is apparently a hotbed for secret escapades.”

Rynne scoffed. “Fenris, please. They’ve played The Game for years. I bet you they’ve both seen and had sex in more risqué places than this.”

He shook his head, but he was smiling now and his fingers were curving around her waist – sure signs that her ploy to distract him was working. 

It was time to try her luck again. Slowly and carefully, she tilted her hips and pressed her groin to his. 

He lifted his eyes to meet her gaze. Encouraged by the warmth in his face, she rolled her hips against him, rubbing herself carefully against the ridge of his cock, and the amusement in his face soon melted away, leaving only a heated sort of seriousness behind. 

She clasped his shoulders and pressed herself more firmly against him. His eyelids fluttered, and his fingers tightened on her waist. 

_Good,_ she thought. She slid her hands up to his neck, undulating her hips more insistently toward him and arching her spine to draw his attention to her breasts. 

Sure enough, his gaze fell to her chest, and Rynne enjoyed another surge of satisfaction when he licked his lips. A breathless minute later, he was breathing hard and lifting his hips to meet her. 

Then, finally, he plucked at her underpants. “Take these off,” he whispered.

 _Success_ , Rynne thought triumphantly. She shifted off of his lap and discarded her smalls while Fenris freed his cock. She straddled his lap once more, relishing in the intimate heat of skin-to-skin as she rocked against him more eagerly than before.

He was breathing harshly again, and his eyes were on the damp curls between her legs and his hands were gripping her bottom and pulling her close – so close, so fucking close with his steely length sliding through the slickness between her legs, and Rynne wanted him closer still because there was no such thing as being too close to Fenris– 

He lifted her abruptly and pulled her onto his length, and she couldn’t help herself: she cried out and clenched her nails against his shoulders. He was so hard and smooth and perfect, and he was filling her up so completely, and – fuck’s sakes, this was what Fenris did. He filled her up completely in every possible way: filling her ears with his dry humour and his snark and his serious words of love, filling her body with his fingers or his cock, and filling her ridiculously besotted heart with so much fucking love that she had no choice but to set it free. 

She pressed her lips to his ear. “I can’t get enough of you,” she told him breathlessly. “I’m never going to get enough of you, Fenris.” 

He panted and dug his fingers into her skin. “You will never have to,” he rasped. “I am your constant, Rynne. You know that.”

“I know,” she whimpered. “I know, I…” She broke off with another pleasured cry as he thrust into her more deeply than before.

He turned his head, and his lips grazed her cheekbone. “Kiss me,” he groaned. 

She eagerly slanted her lips over his and sank her fingers into his hair. Fenris slid his arms around her, hugging her hard and digging his fingers into her shoulder and her back, and Rynne wrapped her arms around his neck to hug him just as hard. They were clasping each so tightly now that she could feel his ribs rising with every breath, and her only regret was that she couldn’t feel the bare skin of his chest through his damned tunic. 

She tried to thrust her hips, but Fenris was clutching her so tightly that she could barely move, and yet she didn’t want to escape the firm enclosure of his arms. She circled her hips slowly instead, grinding herself against his cock until he was reaching so deep that it was nearly too much, and it wasn’t long before he was pumping his hips in a smooth rhythm to match her rolling grind. 

She pressed her forehead to his and breathed into his parted lips. His eyes were squeezed shut and his fingers were digging into her skin so firmly that it hurt, but Rynne loved it: she loved his fingers on her back and his focused face and the thickness of his cock as it delved into her body, and she rolled against him until his face was twisted and tense with the rising of his climax. 

He was panting sharply, and there was sweat beading on his forehead. He was so close, and Rynne knew just how to finish him off. 

She traced his earlobe with her tongue. He moaned and jerked, sending a fresh spike of pleasure through her body. “Hawke,” he begged. 

She pressed her lips to his ear. “Give me everything,” she purred. “Give me every last fucking drop of you. I want it all.” Then she nipped his neck. 

He gasped, then shuddered convulsively and dropped his forehead to her chest, and Rynne smiled smugly as his climax pulsed inside of her. His hands were still splayed on her back, and she tightened her arms around his shoulders as he rode out the tail end of his peak. 

He breathed hard against her chest, and Rynne idly twisted a lock of his snowy-white hair around her finger until he lifted his head and gave her a tired smile. 

“Every last drop?” he said. “That’s rather greedy of you.”

She grinned at him. “I’m extremely greedy when it comes to you.” 

He chuckled softly, then leaned his head back and closed his eyes, and Rynne smiled at how relaxed and replete he looked. She dropped a kiss on his cheek and then his ear. “Ready to come to bed?” she whispered. 

He let out a long and gusty sigh. “I… want to,” he murmured. “But Josephine needs a decision about this blasted merchant issue in Antiva by the morning.” He ran a hand along her back. “I am sorry, Hawke. But I can’t.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said immediately, but her belly sank with disappointment. It felt like it had been ages since they’d gone to bed together. But if Fenris couldn’t come to bed with her… 

She rose from his lap and quickly pulled on her underpants. “I’ll be right back,” she said, and she scurried out of the war room. 

She jogged over to Josephine’s desk, then started dragging the ambassador’s heavy padded armchair toward the war room. Fenris emerged at the sound of her struggling, then hurried over to join her. 

“Why are you abducting Josephine’s chair?” he asked.

“I’m staying with you while you work,” she said. She pushed open the war room doors so he could pull the chair inside.

He gave a chiding look. “You should go back to bed,” he said. “There’s no need for us to both be miserable down here.”

 _I don’t want to go to bed without you,_ she thought, but she didn’t want to make him feel guilty. She gently pinched his chin instead. “You can’t be miserable if I’m here,” she said matter-of-factly. “I bring joy and cheer to every room I enter, in case you didn’t notice. Now be useful and help me bring this chair inside.” She gave him a charming smile and waited for his witty retort. 

The witty retort didn’t come. Instead, he looped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. “You did bring me joy tonight,” he said quietly. “I hope you know that.”

His expression was soft and affectionate, and Rynne’s heart squeezed with satisfaction. Cheering him up had been her main goal tonight, after all. 

She curled her fists against his chest. “Same to you, handsome. If by ‘joy’, you mean making me come all over the–”

He scoffed. “Shut up, Hawke,” he drawled, and he kissed her. 

She smiled against his lips. Sleeping on Josie’s chair in the war room might not be ideal, but a little discomfort was nothing if it meant making Fenris happy. 

If it meant making Fenris happy, Rynne would do anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can read the entire Fenquisition fic [here on AO3.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17806493/chapters/42011807) Or come and yell about FenHawke with me on [Tumblr.](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) xo


	9. Satinalia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry almost-Christmas, everyone! A little before-and-after FenRynne holiday fluff.

**The year 9:31 Dragon, in Kirkwall…**

“Happy Satinalia!” Hawke crowed as she sauntered into Fenris’s mansion. With a flourish, she offered him a bottle of wine.

Fenris eyed the expensive bottle suspiciously. “For Satinalia, you say?”

“Yes!” she said. “I don’t know about you, but it’s my favourite holiday. Who doesn’t like a holiday that’s really just an excuse to drink and dance a lot and to buy gifts for your closest friends?” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Or to feel guilty about the ones you didn’t buy gifts for. One of the two.” 

He gazed at her in silence, uncertain how to respond. Fenris had never received a Satinalia gift before – not that he could remember, at least. He had also only ever harboured resentment toward this holiday, considering what it had entailed back in the Imperium. 

For Fenris, Satinalia in the Imperium meant being paraded around in his gold-plated cuffs and collar, whether at Danarius’s estate or the estate of whoever was hosting the most lavish Satinalia fête that year. If Fenris was lucky, Danarius would ignore him during the parties, leaving him to skulk undisturbed in Danarius’s wake; if Fenris was less lucky, Danarius would address him in the condescending manner reserved for a pet, or even force Fenris to eat rich morsels of food from his fingers if he was feeling particularly jovial and cruel.

Fenris dropped his gaze and folded his arms defensively. “I didn’t get you anything,” he muttered.

Hawke sighed dramatically. “And here I thought I was your best friend. I’ll pretend that doesn’t hurt my feelings.” She smiled cheekily at him, then held out the bottle more insistently.

Fenris reluctantly took the bottle. He couldn’t read the label, but he recognized the stamp on the glass: the wine was Antivan and very fine, and likely more than Hawke could really afford, given that she was trying to save up for Varric’s brother’s insane Deep Roads expedition. 

There was an odd buzzing feeling in his chest, almost like a mixture of warmth and a dull sort of pain. He swallowed hard. “You expect me to drink this all on my own?” he said gruffly. He knew how ungrateful he sounded; truly, the only words that should be coming from his mouth were ‘thank you’. But… _venhedis_ , it was so difficult with Hawke sometimes. He already owed her so much for helping him to shake off the hunters when he’d first arrived in Kirkwall. Not that she ever brought it up or lorded it over him; in fact, every time she showed up here to see him, it was never to call in any favours. It was always to invite him along on some foolish lark, or to visit the Blooming Rose for a glimpse of the so-called ‘local talent’, or just to invite herself into his squatter’s nest and put her feet up on his filthy table and to talk and talk until he had no choice but to sit with her and talk in return. 

He had much to be grateful to Hawke for, and not just for this wine. But his words of thanks were blocked, trapped behind the unfamiliar and uncomfortable warmth filling his ribcage and swelling in his throat, and he could barely stand to look at her, much less express his thanks.

When she replied, her jovial tone was slightly wary. “You don’t have to drink the whole thing in one go, you handsome fool. Not unless you’re having a party and you’re going for a record or some such thing.” She brightened and looked around the dank foyer. “ _Are_ you having a party I don’t know about? I mean, perhaps that cracked femur in the corner is a friend of yours…”

Fenris pursed his lips and didn’t reply, and Hawke took a step closer to him and reached for his arm. “Hey, are you all right?” she asked.

He shirked away from her instinctively. “I’m fine,” he snapped.

She stopped in her tracks, and Fenris took a deep breath to calm himself. Hawke didn’t deserve his ire; not this time, at least. Besides, he wasn’t angry, not really. Anger was easy and familiar, a blistering roar in his chest and in his ears, and that’s not what this roiling warmth in his chest was.

He took another breath, then forced himself to look her in the eye. “I’m fine,” he said calmly. “And this was… thoughtful of you.” He gestured at the bottle. 

She smiled tentatively. “Proof that Rynne Hawke does actually have a thought once in a while, right?” 

He tried for a smile in return; he must not have been very convincing, though, because Hawke tugged her earlobe, then jerked her thumb at the door. “Well, um, I guess I’ll…”

She was shifting slowly toward the door. A dull little pang diluted the warm feeling in his chest. “You’re leaving?” he asked.

She stopped and looked at him in surprise. “I, uh. I don’t know. Am I?”

He dropped his eyes awkwardly to the bottle in his hands, then gestured at it once more. “I just told you that I can’t drink this on my own.”

She didn’t reply right away, and when Fenris chanced another look at her, he found her beaming at him. “Is this your way of asking me to stay for a drink?” she asked.

He huffed in amusement – and, yes, a little relief – then waved for her to sit at the table. “If you’re looking for a gold-embossed invitation on vellum, I’m afraid you’ll be waiting for quite some time.” He uncorked the wine, then sat kitty-corner to her and offered her the freshly-opened bottle. 

She chuckled as she took the bottle from his hand. “Fenris, I think this is your Satinalia gift to me. A drink and – dare I ask – a story from Kirkwall’s most handsome brooding elf?”

He _tsk_ ed. “I don’t brood.”

She lowered the bottle from her lush raspberry-red lips and grinned at him. “I didn’t hear a refusal there to tell a story. Excellent, I’ll prepare to have my smallclothes melt off at that lovely voice of yours.” 

Her heated smile lifted a flush of warmth in his gut – yet another unfamiliar and pleasant and _confusing_ sensation. He seemed to suffer such sensations a lot when Hawke was around. 

He snorted and took the bottle from her hand. “Shut up, Hawke,” he drawled, and he took a healthy gulp of wine. Just as he’d predicted, it was delicious wine: a rich and tangy sweetness overlaid with the perfect bitter note. He savoured the taste as it washed over his tongue, and when he lowered the bottle, it was to find Hawke watching him with the sort of gentle smile that always seemed to make his heart skip a beat. 

He smirked at her and handed her the bottle. The afternoon stretched out lazily as he and Hawke drank their wine and chatted and bickered and teased each other. By the time they’d finished the bottle of wine, Fenris had realized something odd and… nice. 

He’d realized that perhaps Satinalia wasn’t so bad after all.

**Ten years later in Skyhold...**

Hawke carefully kneeled beside Fenris on the carpet, then held out a silver tray bearing two glasses of wine and the remaining half-empty bottle. “Fancy Antivan wine, freshly delivered from, er, Antiva!”

Fenris smiled faintly at her and took one glass of wine. “By which you mean it was specially ordered via Bonnie Sims?”

Hawke lifted her chin in a dignified manner. “How it got here doesn’t matter. What matters is that it’s good.” She carefully set the tray on the carpet beside Toby’s furry snoring form, then lifted the second glass.

She tapped her glass against his in a tiny salute. “Happy Satinalia,” she chirped.

“ _Benefaris,_ ” he said, and she smiled at him. They each sipped their wine, then Hawke shifted closer to him on the carpet. She punched their little nest of cushions into shape and arranged a blanket over their legs before picking up her glass again. She took a sip of wine, then finally snuggled into Fenris’s side.

Fenris watched in amusement until she finally stopped fidgeting. “Sufficiently comfortable now, are you?” he said.

“Yes, thanks for asking,” she said pertly. “Although if you wanted to take your shirt off and share a little more of your body heat with me, I wouldn’t be opposed.” 

He scoffed and pinched her waist. She squeaked and smacked his hand, and they scuffled for a moment until Toby lifted his head quizzically.

Hawke poked Fenris once more. “Settle down, you ruffian. You’re disturbing the mabari.”

Fenris nodded respectfully to Toby. “I apologize, my friend. You can resume your rest.” 

Toby _woofed_ quietly, then settled his head on his paws once more, and Hawke and Fenris settled back on their impromptu pallet of cushions. The fire was dancing brightly in the hearth, and Fenris idly wiggled his bare toes as the flames sent a gentle wash of heat over the soles of his feet. Then, before he could forget, he reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a small envelope. 

He handed the envelope to Hawke. “For you,” he said.

She gasped dramatically and pressed her hand to her chest. “For me? A letter from you? What sort of letter? A naughty one, if I’m lucky.”

He tutted as she eagerly opened the envelope. “As though I haven’t given you a letter every year on Satinalia for the past three years,” he drawled.

“ _Shh_ ,” she admonished. “You’re ruining the suspense.” She pulled out the letter, and Fenris watched her from the corner of his eye as she read it.

Her eyes flicked swiftly across the page, and her expression shifted just as quickly: from smiling to serious, a bark of a laugh then back to serious. Her face gradually softened to something more complex, like a very tender sort of joy, and by the time she reached the end of the letter, her eyes were shining. 

She looked up and met his gaze, then let out a wobbly little laugh. “Oh Fenris,” she said. She quickly wiped her eyes, then batted her eyelashes playfully. “If I’m not mistaken, this letter must mean you like me a bit. Just a little bit, though, not very much–”

He huffed in amusement and cupped her tattooed neck in his palm. “Shut up, Hawke,” he murmured, and he kissed her smiling lips. 

She slid her fingers through his hair, and a few moments later, she was tucked beneath his body on the carpet as their lips met and parted in a lazy ebb and flow of affection. The fire was cozy and the blanket was warm, trapping the heat that continued to rise between them as Fenris slid one arm beneath her waist, and it wasn’t long before he was hot enough to pull his tunic over his head and toss it on the carpet alongside their forgotten wine. 

Hawke smiled and trailed her fingers over his collarbones. “Mmm,” she murmured. “Happy Satinalia to me.” 

He smirked at her salacious tone. “Yes, it is,” he whispered. Just as every Satinalia had been, for as long as he had known her.

He drifted his palm over her belly, then beneath her shirt to seek her golden skin, and moments later her shirt was discarded along with his own. Hawke and Fenris kissed and shifted and breathed together on the carpet in front of the fireplace until the mabari deigned to move somewhere safer, and the passing of night gradually softened the flames to a gentle pile of embers, bringing another Satinalia to a peaceful close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays, everyone! I am [Pikapeppa on Tumblr,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) for those who wish to come and follow my Fenris trash ass. xoxo


End file.
